To Be Forgotten
by MayrisErin
Summary: Freya delves into the realm of despair, believing the rumors of Sir Fratley's death. In her rage, she loses herself and all compassion for life, becoming a murderous monster with the sole desire to quench her thirst for blood.
1. Prologue

_**A/N: Decided to finally write this. It's been on my mind for quite a while. All the chapters are going to be fairly short, but there'll be a lot of them. I hope that this story pans out. It's playing nicely in my head.**_

_**Fair warning: For those who know me, you know that I sometimes write graphic gore scenes. This is one of the stories with graphic gore. Please heed my warnings. Rated T, yes, but I'm sure a lot of you teens watch gory anime. Not going to limit it. But, fear not, if there is romance, I don't write smut, so yeah.**_

_**I'm writing this on my palm pilot, so if you have one, you know my frustrations. Short chapters, but lotsa them. Promise. **_

_**Enjoy! Review if you like it! :D**_

_**-Mayris  
**_

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**Prologue**

Up the mountain she jumped. On and on. Fatigued, starved, and driven mad by truth. Her reasoning no longer made sense. At this point, she was driven by bloodlust and sorrow.

This powerful emotion refilled her soul with life. She was already condemned. The rush was amazing.

She could still feel the King's blood running over her fingers and splattering over her face. The blood of all those Cleyrans. None of them escaped alive, or so she hoped.

Never in her life had she imagined she would slay her own people. Of course all of Burmecia knew by now.

She soon stood at the threshold of a large, intimidating castle embedded into the rock face.

Her footfalls barely disturbed the ground as she began to ascend from the skies.

The highest tower was her target. Jumping from the second-highest perch, she crashed through a large window. A single, elegant chair sat in the center of the room. Its occupant stood, seemingly startled.

Without a word, she lunged forward, lance slicing like obsidian through the darkness. Pulling it back, she sliced toward the shadowed figure whom effortlessly jumped back, floating in midair.

Tauntingly, he moved in and out of range. She screeched in frustration, thrusting the edge a bit farther than her normal reach.

The tip grazed his outstretched hand, leaving a small, bloodless cut. Growling, he struck back relentlessly. Spheres of energy warped before him before shooting straight for her.

Their force knocked the woman off her feet and she flew into a pillar. Guiding her fall, she twisted her arm out of the way, landing with her weapon raised in poise.

She lunged again, but vanished before reaching her enemy. Confused, he glanced about. She was no where in sight.

Silence filled the room. The man closed his eyes, letting his senses take control. And then he smiled.

As the woman leapt from the rafters, he looked up and raised his arm. She let out a pained yell as the ignition of the mage flame sent her skidding to the floor from the force.

The man approached, standing triumphantly before the defeated heap which was that of Freya Crescent; the treacherous Burmecian.


	2. Contract with the Devil

_**A/N: Just let me know if I should just dump this story, okay? I want feedback. I've got a few other fanfics in order which I will finish, but I want to know if this one is worth the effort.**_

_**-Mayris  
**_

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**Contract with the Devil**

At last, she had reached the zenith of the mazelike castle. Barely an hour had passed since she and its possessor crossed paths. Only then did the young dragon knight realize how foolish she had been to try such a stunt.

He stood over her, catching his breath from their previous battle. The little vixen had been more of a challenge than he anticipated. She actually had him breaking a sweat. He had to admit that the transition from plucking off one of his underlings to dueling with a true warrior felt refreshing. But their dance was over. Now to interrogate and exterminate.

"So, an innocent lamb has parted from the flock into the snares of death. To what do I owe this honor, mortal? Or, in other words, give me a single reason why I shouldn't kill you," the words flowed naturally with a savory feel.

In shame, the knight bowed her head. All the years of ceaseless training had been smothered significantly beneath the force of a single mage. But none of that mattered anymore. If she came without preparation for defeat, she wouldn't have bothered at all. Still, the shame was to be expected. A part of her wanted to win. Now that shred of her pride was stripping away by the seconds.

"My reasons for inner peace have been lost. All I desire... is the endless spilling of blood." She paused, clenching her fists. Through clenched teeth, she growled, "I've need of nothing else."

He raised an elegant eyebrow. Slowly, he approached. "Hmm..." Grimacing in disgust, he gave her a once-over. "You're one of those Burmecian rats... I may have use of you yet."

He raised an arm. She winced as an icy fingertip pressed against her forehead. A cold mist spread through her from the point of contact. Liquid wind ran over her face and through her hair. It spread over her back and across her shoulders. He pulled his hand away as the spell reached her heels.

"There. That appearance is far more tolerable," he sighed, a little more fatigued than before. He sat back in the plush throne of the dim, empty hall of ruined pillars and wall of blue-tinted windows.

"Now, divulge the epic of thy misery, Freya of Burmecia."

Four Years of denying Fratley's death had solved nothing. No evidence, nor hope. Her search seemed needless. Further denial would only complicate her emotional scars. Now was the time to surrender to the painful truth. Fratley was gone.

In fact, it was a time for her to be grateful. By luck she had stumbled across the legend of an Angel of Death. And now, she stood--knelt--before him.

Neck length white hair fell lightly over her now pale human complexion. She was no longer Freya Crescent. But at the same time, she was. Experimentally, she touched her human nose, flattening her human palm over her rosy lips.

Smirking, he motioned to a mirror adjacent to them. The guised dragon knight stood, walking over. The anatomical change left her feeling weak.

Within the reflective glass, a nineteen year old with teal eyes stared back from behind a large hat. Curiosity belied the grief within. Salmon-colored armor hung even more loosely over her body than normal, nearly swallowing her.

She turned to him in confusion. "Why... did you...?"

"I find it easier to listen to you without the urge to kill you when you don't look like a rodent," he promptly answered.

"I... understand," was the hesitant reply.

It was as if a piece of her had been stripped away. Perhaps the very last bit of whom she was. And, for once, she was grateful. Dealing with the devil made her feel so... alive.

Her honor had been lost the moment her blade tasted Cleyran blood. Developing regrets was pointless. Freya was innately stubborn. Never would she back down from her own resolve.

Shutting her eyes, she disclosed her journey, reliving every bit of it through her words:

"I searched the highest mountains only to hear rumors of his victories. I searched the deepest valleys... and only found his footsteps. In the end... I realized that no matter how hard I search, I will never find him. The rumors of his victories have changed... to rumors of his imminent death. I will never..." She paused, correcting herself. "Sir Fratley will never see me again." She forced her voice to conceal her rage. Regardless, it took little effort for the grandiloquent overlord to detect that rage.

He laughed airily. "Love is such an unreliable promise, isn't it?" She didn't respond, but he wasn't expecting for her to. "What do you want to do, Freya?" he smiled icily.

Her voice darkened. "I want... to bring suffering to this world. Shatter their false hope of impending joy. There is nothing but emptiness in my heart. Thus, I will plague the world with my unforgiving nightmares. Gaia will be thrust into a reign of purgatory!" Unsettled determination of anger flared dangerously in her youthful eyes.

His smile widened to a malicious grin. "Just what I wanted to hear."


	3. Underling

_**A/N: If you want to know what inspired me, I shall tell you. I was having a very bad day and decided that I needed to vent. Freya Crescent is my favorite playable female character in the game. My absolute favorite is Erin. I'll write a fanfic about her when summer comes. So I was trying to relax; taking a shower. I voice act in my alone time, ok? Gosh, not like no one talks to themselves in the bathroom! *angry, defensive face* Anyway, did a monologue about a scenario if Fratley never came back or Freya believed he was really dead. Went from there and ended up that she found out about Kuja somehow, which sparked her interest. She's became far more sadistic than our favorite Angel of Death. So much so, that he actually started to shudder from her ideas of torment. (Yeah, really bad day.) I toyed with the idea and then just started on it. **_

_**Most inspirational for this is the band Nightwish. I need my angry music right now, so I've been listening to it ALL day! :D I'm pretty much rocking out here, xD But I've a few favorites I've chosen. As you can tell, by the way, this is a new writing style and not all of my readers (if any) are used to it. **_

_**Short chapters again. Palm pilot hurts my hand and teases my ego. It's very annoying, but I still love it. Just hope it doesn't affect my other fanfics that bad. It's the only portable, usable computer I have besides my mum's computer. And she's particular about me using this. **_

_**Thanks! Review if you like! I don't want to create dead ends!**_

_**-Mayris  
**_

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**Underling**

It was foolish to believe he might count her as an equal. She had sought him out no less. Bad enough that she trespassed and challenged him to a fight. She was lucky to be alive after that little escapade. A few threats were to be expected. However, the pompous attitude was a little much.

"No one in my castle is above me. My order is final. If you interfere with or disrupt my work, you are very expendable. To me, you're still a worthless rodent beneath a human mask. I gave you your new identity. It's just as easy to take it away." They were venturing a winding staircase toward a darkened corridor. "Until you prove that you have some kind of redeeming worth, your life is under constant compromise. Speaking of which, you have a week to prove you're worth keeping before I take your life. Convenient for you; I've some business to take care of in Alexandria with Brahne Raza Alexandros XVI."

Freya paused at the mention of Brahne. "You're meeting with the Queen of Alexandria?"

He glanced back, still walking. "Yes. I've an offer Her Majesty can't afford to pass up."

She stayed, giving him a semi-skeptical glare. "Who exactly are you?"

Smirking to her, he answered grandly, "The Angel of Death."

She managed to hide a smile of accomplishment and asked casually, "Are you going to kill her?" Her voice was almost monotonous.

"Eventually, yes. But I need her for the time being," he replied, paying her little mind.

"What for? Why don't you just kill her? And then kill that brat of a daughter of hers?"

He stopped abruptly. Freya collided with the wall behind her, staring into his flexed palm that was inches from her face. Magic crackled threateningly between his fingers as sparks teased his flesh. She drew in a strained breath. "You will not disrespect My Canary," he growled with a dark, acidic glare.

"She has a purpose?" she asked fearlessly.

"That remains to be seen," he mumbled, pulling his hand away and stiffly continuing on.

It was none of her business really. And her meddling was starting to get on his nerves.

"You may stay in this room," he motioned to the door before them. He refused to show the chivalry of opening the door to a meddlesome rat like her. She was fortunate to fair so well in battle. No doubt she would prove far more useful than those mindless dolls, but her defiance was unwarranted.

"We leave at dawn. Be in the hangar by then. Ask one of the dolls to lead you there. I'm leaving you behind otherwise." Without another word, he turned on his heel and disappeared down the hallway.

Freya entered the room and looked about. It was formidable. At least better than the barracks back home. In a way, this felt like a victory. Though she lost, her plan was progressing perfectly. She planned to spare the Auctioneer in Treno for his information on this so-called 'Angel of Death' when she ruled all of Gaia. Kuja was her meal ticket to ascension.

She smiled, staring up at the ceiling. All those people to fall victim to her lust for blood. Thinking about the cries of their imminent anguish brought ease to her mind. Lustful dreams of manslaughter visited her. And she enjoyed every minute of it.


	4. Black Wing of Fate

**Black Wing of Fate**

Captain Adelbert Steiner closed his eyes, bowing his head in respect. The late king was carried past, laying motionless among a bed of white irises. He was moved gracefully to the family gardens to join his ancestors in eternal slumber.

Princess Garnet til Alexandros XVII wore a black dress of pure elegance. As a tear rolled down her cheek, her mother placed an arm on her shoulder comfortingly. Just like that, Garnet crumbled under her emotions.

She buried her face into her mother's arm. Doctor Tot remained nearby, assisting the queen in the comfort of her daughter.

As the alter was lowered into the ground, Beatrix raised her blade in salutations. Her brigade mirrored her action.

All of Alexandria mourned the loss of the revered king into the fall of night. Within her quarters, Garnet tried to forget the day's event. Drowning every thought into Lord Avon's beautiful play.

She sat in the chair that overlooked her father's kingdom. She turned to the page where Marcus wins the battle against King Leo. At once, she snapped the book shut. Her teary eyes settled on the horizon.

The sky was placid. Tomorrow still came even without her father. The sun was slowly rising. Had she really been up all night reading? And she wasn't a bit tired if that was true. But part of her wondered if what she was seeing in the sky was born from fatigue.

A black wing was floating into view from the North. She blinked, rubbing her tired eyes. It was still approaching, drifting silently like a promise of slow demise. Unlocking the window, she pushed it open and narrowed her eyes to catch a clearer glimpse. Even if it was a hallucination, it was definitely fascinating.

When it was finally decipherable, she then recognized it as an airship. She bounded to her wardrobe to change out of her nightclothes. She recalled having no lessons today; they'd all been cancelled due to the passing of her father. Doctor Tot thought it best to allow Garnet time to mourn. For that, she was grateful. It would be otherwise impossible for her to keep her concentration.

Siphoning through the conversations she'd eavesdropped on yesterday, she remembered no mention of a visitor coming to a castle. That ship was too grandios to be a simple cargo carrier. Unless it was her Uncle Cid. That was definitely a possibility. But her mother would have made mention of his arrival in passing.

Something was definitely off. Then again, her mother was still writing to Uncle Cid via Mognet. Maybe he'd mentioned a visit a few days prior and her mother forgot to make mention.

She glanced out the window once more, returning from the washroom. She quickly dressed and brushed her damp hair, pulling it back into a clip. That done, Garnet raced out of her room.

The airship had already docked and she knew the queen had been alerted. As she rounded the corner leading out to the grand hall.

She stopped abruptly. Her mother stood on the steps, giving audience to the new guests. Garnet walked quietly toward the hallway to the right, pressing her back against the wall, staying out of sight of the guests.


	5. Gratifying Strife

**Gratifying Strife**

Darkness still reigned the sky when she started from sleep. Vainly, she dried her cheeks. Her heart was still racing harshly to the point that it hurt.

Fratley. Why was he haunting her dreams?

She stood, pacing away the painful fantasy. She explored the room, finding nothing of significant use. Most of the room was filled with book after book of plays. She left the room with a disgusted sneer.

Freya wandered the halls aimlessly to kill time. Perhaps she could arrive early to the hangar. As she began the climb up the curving staircase, a black mage hobbled down the steps.

She narrowed her eyes at the creature as it stopped before her. "What an unsightly thing. Out of my way before I gouge out your eyes," she threatened.

The mage shuddered. Her calmness with the threat was frightening. And the piercing gaze she was giving him only added to his discomfort. As if his master wasn't enough. "I was instructed by Master Kuja to lead you to the hangar," it said.

"Oh. You must be one of those dolls he spoke of," she sighed agitatedly. "What a useless thing, you are."

The black mage turned back to the stairs. "If you'll follow me, I will lead the way." He started walking and she reluctantly followed. The hallway above wound into a circular room which branched off to other corridors. Entering one of them, the mage started up another set of stairs.

At last, they made it to the open hangar where a single craft was being loaded with supplies by more dolls. Kuja watched them impatiently. A woman stood at his side with a cheerful expression. Beside her, a small crate. Two clowns directed the loading.

"It's still pointless," Kuja grumbled. "I don't know why you're suddenly fussing over that arrogant vermin."

The woman smiled. "Like you, she too has her reasons of this lifestyle. For better or worse, it gave me something to do."

He scoffed. "Just as long as you didn't forget about your own disguise," was the bitter reply.

"Of course not!" she chimed. "I worked on it this morning."

"Convenient," he sighed, flipping a cluster of hair out of his eyes. He then proceeded to scold the clowns. "Zorn. Thorn. Can't you help them go faster?"

"They're working as fast as is reasonable," answered Zorn, the jester clad in blue.

"Fast as reasonable, they are working," echoed Thorn, the jester clad in red.

"Then why don't you start loading?" he accused.

The two stammered their excuses to get out of work. Lucky for them, Freya walked over, distracting the silver-haired prince from rage's edge. "Took you long enough," he seethed.

She raised a thin eyebrow. "The airship is still being loaded."

"Luckily. Get to work, vermin," he ordered stiffly.

"Excuse me?" She nearly choked in a laugh. Did he just order her to work like the dolls? The man had guts.

"You heard what I said," he answered nonchalantly.

She laughed. "Fine. And while I'm at it, I'll stitch that smart mouth of yours together," she grinned eagerly. A small giggle caused the Burmecian to redirect her glare. "You find that amusing? Are you desiring the same treatment?"

The woman smiled and bowed her head. "Pleasure to meet you. My name is Hilda Fabool." Her fearless attitude confused Freya. Just how unintimidating did she appear in this human state? "I was just admiring two children at play. Your little threats are so adorable." Freya narrowed her eyes in disbelief. Hilda continued, "By the way, when I heard of your arrival, I immediately started this last night." She searched through the contents of the crate at her feet. Pulling out a bundle of folded clothes, she handed them out to Freya. "It wasn't easy to get your measurements when you're asleep, but I prevailed!" she exclaimed.

"What?" Freya asked, going pale. This... woman... had visited her last night!? Kuja showed a bit of interest; more for the fact that it seemed to embarrass the vermin.

Having her measurements taken didn't bother her. Dealing with this exotically cheerful woman was tolerable. But having no idea she'd done so was on a totally different level. Her senses should have picked up any sound around her when she was asleep.

Immediately, she cast an angered glare at Kuja. With her human ears, of course she wouldn't hear anything! He'd dulled her senses dramatically. He gave her a triumphant grin.

Turning back to Hilda, she gladly took the bundle of clothes. And then she walked into the airship. No one stopped her.

"That was amusing," Kuja chuckled.

"Was it? I think it went well." She removed the last contents from the crate and also boarded the vessel.

By that time, the last crate had been loaded. Zorn and Thorn filed in the last of the mages before turning to Kuja.

"Ready for departure, we are!" Thorn addressed.

"We are ready for departure!" Zorn echoed.

Without acknowledging them, he boarded, heading to the bridge. The two followed obediently, staying nearby. They would be stationed at Alexandria Castle for the queen's use.

As the craft left off, Kuja wondered how the audience with Her Majesty would go.


	6. Merchant of Ill Omen

**_A/N: Winter break! Now I can write to my hearts content! I've had this itch to continue this one. I need my daily dose of evils. I AM Russia after all, so it seems fitting, lol._**

**_I'm wondering if my personification of Kuja is correct. I always worry about these kind of things. Also, if there's something that doesn't seem quite canon to the story, please please please let me know! I am a fan of keeping things as real as possible. Even though Freya going evil is not canon, I want to make sure everything else seems accurate._**

**_I hope this one continues well. I just now realized how long this story will be. Expect a book, xD I'll be re-writing the basic story of IX with Freya on the offending side. Now that I own the strategy guide, I have everything at my fingertips. So I don't need to play the game at certain points to remember what comes next. _**

**_And I hope you don't mind the way in which Garnet's father passed. I don't think it's canon either, but it seemed the best way to egg on Brahne to attack all of Mist Continent and eventually the world. Plus it adds more drama and rage._**

**_R&R! xD Tear it apart. I am a fan of criticism and wonder.  
_**

**_-Mayris_**

**_

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_**

Intrigued silence governed the crowded hall. Servants, maids, guards, scholars, and kitchen hands discretely filed along the walls to eavesdrop on the fresh gossip. Or to simply watch fine, political ridicule. The second-story balcony was even filing with the gossip addicts.

Princess Garnet sidled a little closer, looking past the crowds and down toward the expectant guests.

Five foreigners knelt before the queen. All of them bowed their heads in respect except the mystical, silver-haired man at the lead. His gaze warmly settled upon Her Majesty with a sympathetic origin. His attire doubled his mysticism. Seeing a man so scantily clothed to show off his every appealing, muscled feature left a light blush of embarrassment and intrigue across the young princess's face.

Behind the silver-haired mystic to his right knelt a fair woman with fierce, delicate features and a blazing, jade glare. From her perspective, Garnet could barely distinguish light armor secured with a few belted clasps beneath a black rider's cloak. A shudder of strong unease ran through Garnet as she focused upon the warrior's fierce eyes.

And then everything froze. The woman's dark glare had shifted so suddenly on her. It was as if a claymore of ice struck her harshly in the gut, temporarily forcing the air from her lungs. As she breathed in at a gasp, her body shook with the weight of the woman's will pressing against hers relentlessly.

Just as quickly as the glare touched her trembling form, it was gone. Garnet backed a few paces from the banister. But stayed close enough to hear the Queen give the group audience.

The silver-haired man stepped forward, bowing gracefully.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Queen Brahne asked warmly. Her husband's death still ailed her, but she'd nearly perfected the art of masking her sorrow.

Raising his head with a smirk, he said, "I'm a merchant from the north seeking trade."

"Hmm... What do you have to sell?"

"That depends on your demand."

Garnet shook her head. 'No…' she mouthed. She couldn't trust them. Not one bit. She sunk down the railing, trying to catch her mother's expression.

Someone offering trade right after her father's death…? Seemed convenient. Take advantage of her mother's pain by offering compensation?

Kuja smirked, nodding to her with a grin. "What is it that you desire?"

The queen looked down, her lip trembling. Her husband, the king, had been assassinated. The culprit could have been anyone. Anyone from Mist Continent.

Shaking her head, Queen Brahne sighed. "This came all too soon." She turned to Beatrix. "Will you prepare a conference room?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," she answered promptly, hurrying up the stairs.

On the way there, Garnet stood and stopped her. "General Beatrix… what's going on?"

"There's just a merchant here to trade with Alexandria. He believes that there might something of interest to the queen."

"Do you think… it's normal for someone to arrive with a proposition this suddenly after father's death?"

Beatrix shook her head. "I don't deal in political affairs. But it might just be coincidence. Try not to judge these people. They seem friendly and they haven't made any threat to Her Majesty."

Garnet nodded and Beatrix left. Looking back down to the silver-haired man, she gripped the railing again. He waited patiently, eyes closed and arms crossed. She had never seen a man with such features before in her life. His appearance was enticing, but that's all she knew. How could she trust anyone after the loss of someone so dear?

Beatrix returned and informed Queen Brahne that the conference room was prepared. The queen started up the stairs. Beatrix followed, keeping between the queen and the guests.

As the queen neared Garnet, she gave her a reassuring nod. Garnet looked down in respect and did nothing to stop her mother. As she passed, Beatrix kept her cold eyes on the queen. A hand rested on her weapon, ready to attack if she heard the slightest offensive movement behind her.

Garnet's gaze wandered to the guests. She froze as the gaze of the silver-haired man met hers.

Kuja smiled and paused, letting the others precede him. Freya raised an eyebrow, but followed Beatrix. The others did not wait for him as well as he ordered them to continue. Two jesters carrying a heavy chest and a tall figure with slender fingers gripping a worn cloak shut around their face.

He knelt before her and took her hand in his. Garnet gasped. His hands were ice cold. Lightly, he pressed his lips to the back of her hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness Princess Garnet til Alexandros."

Her eyes widened a fraction. Her hand still lay frozen in his grasp. "Um… yes… th-thank you," she said, remembering her manners.

Standing briskly, he joined the group, walking down the hall toward the conference room.

Garnet inspected her hand which was shaking. Clenching her fist, she turned and walked the opposite direction. Layouts of the secret passages ran through her thoughts. The conference room they had chosen was probably one of the old music rooms the orchestra used to rehearse.

She quickly changed out of her black dress and into the orange clothes she wore while out of the castle to hide her identity and headed for the wall on the far side of her room. She pushed the wall in and walked into the crawlspace that led downward. It was an awkward descent. Feet first in a downward crawling position. But there was little choice as to how she traveled. That was the direction she had to go. At last, she could jump off the slope and into a straight walkway from off a ledge.

Pausing, she allowed herself to stand and stretch from the climb before crouching and continuing. Voices echoed through the ancient, mold-covered walls. Her gloves collected immense amounts of dust and grime. A collection of insect entrails stuck to her boots. Water dripped from unseen crevices in the walls.

The voices grew louder until she could decipher words. She paused, pressing her ear against the wall and quieting her breathing.

"I'm terribly sorry to hear of such a painful loss," the man said grandly.

Brahne sniffled. "It… it isn't as dark as it seems. I still have my daughter. She means a lot to me. That is all I need as of now."

Garnet smiled and was nearly caught in her own tears. The three of them, mother, father, and daughter, had all been a closely knit knot. There was still that intangible connection between them even if father wasn't around physically.

"Do you know who committed such an atrocity?"

She sniffled, dabbing her eyes with the handkerchief. "No… I want to know. But it will not solve anything. They wouldn't admit to it."

Kuja smiled. "There is a way to find them…"

"What?"

"Your Majesty… the world is on the brink of a new generation. A new age of technology. We have airships and amazing machinery powered by mist here. But… something more powerful, and beautiful… and archaic has not been touched for decades."

Brahne looked up. A spark of hope in her tired eyes.

Garnet pressed her ear more firmly against the stone. Her hand shifted and she toppled over as a rock gave way beneath it.

The light thud reached Freya's sensitive ears. Turning to the wall, she walked over. Placing her hand against the stone, she caught Kuja's attention. He glanced over. _'An intruder?'_

'_Yes,' _she projected.

'_Well done. We wouldn't want anyone slipping this glorious plan to any outsiders.'_

He moved his hand artistically, sending a spell against the wall to block out any sound both in and out. His magic was limited as Beatrix watched him with a scrutinizing glare. He wasn't too worried about a first rate mage, but he couldn't afford to be careless.

Garnet tapped the brick wall. Everything had gone silent. She couldn't even hear motion. No footsteps. Nothing. Sighing, she sat back, closing her eyes. "Mother…" she muttered, wishing she could be there for her.1

To complete the motion after the spell had set, he snapped his fingers and beckoned Zorn and Thorn over. "The text," he ordered.

The two jesters hoisted a heavy book from the chest and lifted it onto the table. Kuja's fingers ran over the grimoire before turning the pages to show an illustration. "Eidolons," he grinned.

Brahne looked to the page. Her eyes scanned the photo before her. Jaw askew and falling open while her eyes bulged from their sockets. An amazing creature, nothing like the mist produced, was spread out over the page. A dragon.

"Behold Bahamut. The ancient Eidolon of the Summoner's tribe. Originated in Madain Sari and wiped out a mere ten years ago."

Freya's head snapped over to his direction.

He continued. "Ten years ago, something miraculous happened. Two passengers were recovered from a shipwreck off the coast of Alexandria Harbor. Only one of the passengers survived. And, shocking as it was, she resembled the true Princess Garnet that had just tragically passed that year."

Brahne shook uncontrollably. The loss of her daughter ten years ago resurfaced. She gripped the table until her fingers paled to a gray. She shook her head, dreading his next words.

"The current Princess Garnet til Alexandros isn't your true daughter, is she, Your Majesty?"

Beatrix gripped her sword tightly, knuckles white, gaze burning. Brahne's shaking gaze remained locked on the picture before her. Anger flooded her veins. She could feel the pulse in her head mocking the truth she tried to conceal.

Kuja grinned and pointed to Bahamut. "Your current 'princess' is able to conjure something like this."


End file.
